Saturday, February 15, 2014

I know that you don't leash your dogs because you trust them to come when you call. I know you think you have dogs that have been taught not to wander off too far out of your yard.

But do you realize what that exciting foreign land IS that's located "not too far" out of your yard?

MY yard.

Interesting fact about my yard: It is not yours. I own it. There are invisible lines measured by the city that make it legally separate from yours. The divisions are not visible to the naked eye, but I swear to you that they do exist. So you see, my yard and your yard are not one and the same. You rent the property nexttomine. That does not mean any adjacent area becomes an extension of your personal dog park. If it did, I would be seeing a cut of the money you're paying your landlord.

You would not have a picnic in my yard, build a tree-fort in my yard, or host drunken lawn-dart tournaments in my yard. You would probably not pull your already low-hanging pants down the rest of the way and take a dump in my yard and you should not be letting your dogs do so either.

That's what YOUR yard is for. And you don't have to clean that up. In fact, if you want to leave the dog crap out there until the spring thaw turns your yard into poop soup, that's between you and your landlord, but you do not rent shitting space on my property. My yard is MY YARD. It will never be your yard no matter how much your un-neutered little mongrel with the magically refilling bladder pisses on it.

When my dog is out on his leash and your dogs come over to investigate, I would suggest having them on leashes as well. If they are on leashes of their own, you might be better able to get them back under your control when they get a little too far up in the old boy's business and Brinkley teaches them the important lesson that, just like my yard, his ASS is also not their playground.

I'm glad Brinkley defended his most personal property.

To recap: What's mine is mine and what's your'n got PWND.

Readers: No dog was actually hurt in this incident, thankfully, but it could have gone either way and that's always a little frightening. Do you have an irresponsible dog owner in your neighborhood? Share your stories with me.

Call me "Ishmael".

These are the absolutely true stories of Erika - wife, mother of three, and word ninja. When not writing wrongs or battling her nemesis, Dishes Galore, she enjoys poking people with sharp sticks until they make little squeaky sounds. *poke*